


Finalities That Remain

by misha_collins_butt



Series: I Knew I Loved You [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU sort of?, Angst, Background Sabriel, Cas being Cas, Dean and Cas have no sense of privacy, Destiel - Freeform, Eavesdropping, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I just really love the bunker, M/M, More bunker kissing, New Fic, Sabriel is just mentioned, Sam walks in on them kissing, because obviously, but Gabe is dead still, goddamnit guys, not active, so like, this has happened like 50 times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 15:50:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20260609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_collins_butt/pseuds/misha_collins_butt
Summary: What was that? Another first kiss Destiel fic? Taking place in the Bunker? Written by me?Nooooooooo/sGood lord I need to practise AU's. This is getting out of hand 😭





	Finalities That Remain

**Author's Note:**

> Surprisingly actually a new fic. I wrote this at like 1am on a Monday morning after dreaming the idea while half asleep. This was like a month or so ago.

Castiel watches the various cacti whiz by against the backdrop of the orange desert as the song on the radio changes. 

It sounds like an updated version of one of the classic rock songs Dean likes. Lately the gruff hunter has been expanding his playlists. Sam had teased him about it, so Dean stopped turning those songs on around him. But Castiel doesn't mind. He's always eager to learn as much as he can about humans these days. 

A gravelly voice growls through the speakers, "_This is how I show my love! I made it in my mind because, I blame it on my ADD, baby!_"

Castiel smiles faintly. What a pleasant change in lyrical depth from the usual superficial topics of other modern genres. He thinks that Dean really has made progress from when they first met. He seems less afraid of his emotions now. 

Still, there's a residue of the macho facade he used to force. It makes Castiel hurt when he sees that sneaking back into Dean's personality.

The voice on the radio picks up again, croaking out its agony, "_This is how an angel cries! Blame it on my own sick lies! Blame it on my ADD, baby!_"

Castiel presses his eyebrows down and glares indignantly at the emotionless face of the radio. He notices in his periphery that Dean is giving him a wary look, as if Castiel might snap at him for the lyrics.

"Dean," Castiel begins. "Why would someone intentionally make an angel cry?"

He knows it's a silly question as soon as he asks it. He's still getting used to the way humans communicate, even after all this time. Sometimes, he feels like a clueless burden.

"Y'know, Cas," Dean laughs awkwardly, knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel. "I think it's just one of those human expressions."

The hunter's scramble to change the station ends with him simply turning the music off altogether. Evidently, Dean does not feel like explaining the complexities of the English language and how a lot of things don't colloquially mean what they definitively mean. That's okay. Castiel isn't in the mood to try and understand.

Abruptly, a thought comes over him and he asks, "Dean? You would never make me cry on purpose, would you?"

They pull up to the first stop light of the small town they must pass through to return to the bunker. Dean knits his brows together and gives Castiel quizzical glance. 

Carefully, Dean replies, "Cas, can...you even cry?"

He hadn't thought of that. Castiel turns his stare out to the street stretching beyond the horizon and considers this.

"I don't know," he mumbles, turning back to Dean. Then adds, "I can try."

The human's protest dies in his throat as Castiel squints his eyes and screws up his face in an effort to make himself shed a tear.

He hears Dean sigh, then request, "Cas, please stop doing that. People are staring."

Castiel's eyes go wide as he flicks them to the right to see a family of five sitting at an outdoor table outside of a restaurant staring back into the car at him. 

Quickly, he looks back to Dean and mutters, "Sorry."

The traffic light turns green. Dean takes off down the road, presumably to get away from prying eyes. Within seconds, the buildings stop short and the desert skips back into view. 

Castiel pushes his lips out, the tans and browns of the landscape blurring together.

"You didn't answer my question," Castiel tries, shattering the patient silence.

He turns on Dean and waits. Watches the side of the hunter's face run the gamut from confusion to realisation to hesitation. 

"Course not," he finally responds, not meeting Castiel's gaze. "I would never make you cry on purpose. I lo--" Dean breathes in sharply, cutting himself off. He swiftly saves it by correcting himself, "I could never do that."

Castiel scrutinises the side of Dean's face which is currently in the process of being superheated by his blush. He waits for Dean to say more. He doesn't.

So, with a curt nod, Castiel returns his eyes to the pavement rushing at him from outside the windshield, and his mind to his thoughts. 

\--

Dean hasn't seen Cas since they got home. He initially thought the angel might be avoiding him, but immediately realised how stupid that idea is. Cas isn't like that. He's eccentric, for lack of a better word, but he's not petty.

Of course, that doesn't mean that Dean is able to distract himself so easily. He's been wandering about for the past hour, meandering through the hallways, peeking into rooms, examining ancient decor and old sienna photographs of the previous tenants.

He's passing by a bedroom that Sam has converted into, what he calls, a 'study' (which Dean had nearly burst out laughing at), when he hears a muffled voice. 

Not sure if he imagined it, he lowers his eyebrows, backtracks, and tucks his face into the 3 inch crack between the door and the frame. 

The voices get clearer just as he spots his brother, ridiculous hair cloaking his face, head hung low over a book where he sits at his desk.

"He almost said it today," Dean recognises that voice as Cas's, though he doesn't see the angel within his narrow line of vision. 

Sam's head whips up, genuine shock in his eyes, and inquires, "Seriously?"

"Yes," Cas replies softly. "Earlier, in the car, on our way back."

"Wh..." Sam tries breathlessly, shakes the haze from his brain. "Well did you say anything?"

"Of course not," Cas snaps, then, seemingly rueful, adds, "He doesn't know that I know."

"Wait, still?!" Sam exclaims incredulously. "Cas, you have to tell him. I mean, he's obviously in love you. Has been for a long time. You _know_ how happy that would make him."

There's an excruciating pause. Sam's face falling as he waits, watches, gauges Cas's reaction. Dean feels it too, creeping like acid through his veins, punching holes in his lungs. 

Then, Cas's voice answers in a shaky rasp, "Yeah. I know."

Though the words are nearly inaudible, Dean feels them crawl like a disembodied hand through the cracked door and lunge at his throat. He feels them choking him, feels the blanket of disguise peeling away to release a guilt like he's never known. Only three words, yet so much more was said than could ever be cohesively explained.

"What are you so scared of?" Sam questions gingerly. Always so careful. So genuine in his desire to do good recklessly.

Dean can hear the trepidation when Cas says, "As an angel, unless God himself wills it, I won't ever die, not permanently. Compared to how long I've lived, human lives are...it's like blinking to me. You're all so fleeting. So easily broken. Sam, what if I--" Cas's voice catches in his throat. His breaths waver. "What if I tell him and then he dies and then I have to just..." A brittle sigh shatters on the hardwood floor and skitters through the door to claw at Dean's heart. "If he dies, I can't bring him back. Angels were never meant to do that, only heal. Maybe...maybe if Gabriel were still around, but..."

Dean watches Sam's face sink from concerned to sullen. His eyes lower and he sits back in his chair.

Cas scrabbles to apologise, "Sam, I'm so sorry--"

"It's okay. It's been years," Sam shakes his head stubbornly. "Gotta get over it eventually."

"Sam," Cas berates. "You watched Lucifer murder him. If anyone has an excuse to never get over losing the love of their life, it's you."

There's a twinge of solemn gratuity in Sam's voice when he lifts the corner of his lips briefly and speaks, "Thanks, Cas." Another unbearably long silence. Then, Sam's words piercing the air, "I think you should tell him. If you don't, and he does die, then you'll have waited too long and it'll be too late. And Cas," Sam shakes his head again, slowly this time, eyes pricking with tears, "You'd never forgive yourself for it." The pain in his words seeps effortlessly into his face, forcing it to twist into a haunted look. One that Dean knows well. In a flash, it's gone and replaced by a well-timed smirk as Sam adds, "And hey, if he does die, then at least we can finally start a club together. Call it Lovers Left Behind. Have meetings every Tuesday and drown ourselves in tequila and bar food."

Cas chuckles at that with an ease that soothes Dean's aching soul. 

"Exclusively for angel-human relationship survivors," Cas inserts dolefully, his bitter smile climbing into his voice.

Sam laughs now, too, at the idea. Dean makes an unimpressed face that he's grateful no one can see. 

After a quaintly serene pause, Cas speaks again, this time resolute, "I think I'm going to tell him now. So I don't lose my nerve." Sam smiles proudly and nods. "Do you happen to know where he might be?"

Dean's eyes blow up to the size of Jupiter and he pivots on his heel at the rustle of Cas's clothes as the angel stands and starts toward the door.

He rushes down the hallway as quietly as he can, voices fading behind him.

"Uh, yeah, I think I saw him in the..."

Dean turns the corner into the kitchen and doesn't hear the rest of it. Doesn't need to. He knows where Sam last saw him. 

He nearly topples a statue on his mad dash through the hall, then knocks a pan off the stove and just barely catches it before it crashes to the floor. He doesn't even put it back on the stove, just slides it onto the counter and sprints to a chair in front of an already open book in the library in what must be a world record time.

He swallows hard and catches his breath just as he hears Cas approach. The angel sidles around the table and stands behind the chair across from Dean, wrapping the top bar in a death grip. 

"Dean," Cas greets him as he usually would. Good. He doesn't know Dean was spying like a middle school girl. The hunter looks up as if just noticing him. Cas immediately looks worried and asks, "Are you okay, Dean? You look pale."

He tries to be nonchalant. He's not doing it well, but well enough that Cas doesn't see through it. Or maybe Cas is too authentically concerned about Dean's current state of health to notice. Either way, it works.

Dean pulls his lips down in an innocent frown and shakes his head rapidly, replying, "'M fine. Thanks for the vote of confidence, though."

Damnit, that was too much.

Cas blinks and his lips part. 

Devastatingly contrite, he stammers, "Dean; I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"

"It was a joke," Dean interjects, cursing himself for his big mouth. 

"Oh."

Utter silence. Torturous, utter silence.

Dean smashes it with his hammer-headed comment, "You can sit, you know. I'm not gonna bite you."

_Unless you tell me to_, he thinks smugly.

Cas sits. Opens his mouth. Closes it. Seems to get lost in his thoughts.

"Somethin' you wanna say, Cas?" Dean asks softly, hopefully, eyeing the angel with patient query.

"Yes. I...I wanted to...um," Cas scrambles for words. Bright pink creeps up his neck and burns his cheeks. "Well, I need to...admit something..."

Obviously, Cas is not about to get it out himself.

So, Dean figures...maybe he can coax it out.

Gently, he closes the book and pushes it away. Lifts himself out of his chair. Wordlessly rounds the table. Stops when the tips of his booted feet touch Cas's.

"Cas," Dean breathes out, heart stuttering at the way Cas's eyes sparkle up at him. "Can I kiss you?"

There. He said it. Okay, not really, but they have to start somewhere and that's certainly not going to be with a declaration of love. Besides, this is close enough. Right?

The air visibly leaves Cas's lungs and, mouth hanging open, he nods - just barely before Dean ducks down and catches his lips in a slow, shameless kiss. His hands find Cas's cheeks as his brows bend up in relief. How long has he been waiting for this?

Cas unabashedly wraps his arms around Dean's waist and pull him down into the chair. 

The way he touches Dean says more than any words in any language could possibly provide. It feels divine.

Like all the tension and pent-up want that's driven them both to madness is being melted away by an inviolable flame. The flame they gradually sparked through years of lingering stares and words with secret meaning and touches that maybe lasted too long to be considered friendly. And this time, when Cas clings to Dean's shirt as if he is the only thing keeping Cas from drowning, it does not feel like betrayal to let him do so. It does not feel like they will both crash and burn if he lets go. 

This time, it feels like he's holding on to assure Dean that this is exactly where they are meant to be right now. 

Stubble scrapes against stubble, fingers tangle in hair, and for the first time in as far back as Dean can remember, he feels invincible.

Yeah. This is close enough for now.

\--

Sam grazes his fingers over the pristine wood finish of a framed photo of him and Gabriel. It was the last one they took together. They were visiting Yellowstone, because Gabe wanted to see the buffalo and make dirty jokes about Old Faithful. 

In the portrait, purple mountains and lush green forests stand proudly in the background, seeming to watch over the two men who were huddled together against the cold, grey wind, smiling at the camera - Gabe's shitty iPhone, which Sam had protested in the past, but gave in to since he was reluctant to hand over his fancy camera to a stranger to take their picture.

He remembers how he felt in that moment. Content and excited and in love. He remembers, out of frame, he was holding Gabe around the waist because he had this irrational idea that if he let go, the angel would go soaring away in the breeze. He'd held on so tight. Gabe had looked back right after taking the photo and had kissed Sam - chaste but full of love. Sam had blushed, though they'd kissed a thousand times before. 

The memory tastes fresh to this day, smells like the stratosphere, like the moments just before it starts to rain. Smells like Gabe. He always smelled amazing. A little citrusy, a little floral, and lot of something that Sam has never been able to describe. Heavenly, maybe, if heaven smells sweet and peaceful.

Sam doesn't cry anymore when he looks at the picture. Now it's more like a distant pang of misery. One he's capable of keeping at bay. Though, he thinks someday, the levee is bound to break. But that's not today. 

He inhales sharply and switches his gaze to the pile of books he'd collected from his personal stash after doing some searching online. 

With tight lips, he gathers them under his arm and silently leaves the study. Makes his way toward the library. He assumes his brother and best friend are probably deep in conversation right now. Knowing Cas, he's stammered out his confession by now, and knowing Dean, _he's_ still trying to wrap his head around it internally but outwardly acting casual. 

And he hates to break up a happy occasion but he really needs to tell them about what he found on this case.

Sam steps into the library and stops short. 

At the other end, Dean is straddling Cas in a chair that really doesn't fit both of them, and they're sucking each other's faces.

Sam breathes in to speak, putting a finger up, then letting it wilt and closing his mouth, furrowing his brows pensively.

Then, without a word, he slowly turns around and heads back to his office space.

No way is he breaking up all that. It's been a long time coming.


End file.
